#professor kuroo

[miyukisu]

minors do not interact .ᐟ

Thinking about older boyfriend again...

Your older boyfriend is so protective of you. He'd never let you get in harm's way or let you do anything that would be detrimental to your well-being.

Your older boyfriend would gladly listen to you complain about how bad your day was. Your professor giving you a hard time? Your manager being a pain in the ass again? He'll listen to all your woes while you sit on his lap and his hand patting your head gently.

Your older boyfriend knows all the reassuring words to tell you. He'll softly whisper in your ear how great you are and how he'll reward you when you eventually overcome these challenges. You swear you feel invincible when you're with him.

Your older boyfriend has little to no social media presence, but he'll happily fight off any creeps who have the audacity to comment filth on your posts. He'll make it known to everyone that you're in a secure and fulfilling relationship.

Your older boyfriend always has an arm around you when you walk in public. Whether it be around your waist or your shoulders—or even just holding your hand. He loves feeling your skin at all times and his warmth comforts you, especially in these crowded places.

Your older boyfriend hates to see you tired and exhausted, so as soon as he sees you panting desperately and slowing down your pace—he'll flip the two of you over and take it from there.

Your older boyfriend feels extra generous sometimes. He'd lift you up or press you against the wall all the while you have your legs wrapped around him. As you rest, he'll reward you with all the passionate thrusts that you deserve.

Your older boyfriend only wants the best for you at all times ❤︎

Gojo, Geto, Toji, Higuruma, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Osamu, Akaashi, Sae, Barou, Oliver, Kaiser, Karasu, Giyuu, Rengoku, Sanemi, Dazai, Chuuya, Saigiku, Techou + any of your luvs

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

[merumis]

you gave kuroo a notebook last may—he hasn't quite had the courage to open it yet.

it's almost august now; it's that sticky kind of heat outside, the one that clings to both his skin and the inside of his lungs, so he's stuck in his childhood room. there's a rickety fan that keeps blowing half-cooled air into his face and downstairs, he can hear his father talking to his grandparents. something about dad's hardware store, something about a new employee, something about grandma wanting to make grandpa's favorite for dinner tonight.

the fan keeps lifting the cover of the notebook up. it's sitting on kuroo's desk. to his right, between all the remnants of last semester's college apartment that he couldn't leave there this summer: an air purifier his mom sent him (it was a peace offering, he thinks, after a particularly bad phone call. he doesn't think he forgave her), a box of his dishes, filled with cracks from his shitty dishwasher, and a bread basket you thrifted him. just to name a few.

and still, between the clutter, the breeze from the fan lifts only the cover—just enough for it to catch his eye. he reaches over to grab it, playing with the cover, bending the spine and flicking through the pages. it's an old notebook, well-worn and imprinted by your fingertips. the leather bends and gives where you would've held it, or where it would've jumbled around in your bag—molded by textbooks and pencil cases and your laptop.

he supposes he'll see you again next month, so now is as good a time as any to open this. you've been awfully incurious regarding this whole thing—sending him texts about your and his internships more than anything else. he's been partially grateful.

it's not that he doesn't want to read it. he doesn’t know quite how else to say it. he’s watched you scribble in this thing over the course of the year. it’s almost always late at night, in his bed or yours, lit only by his half-broken lamp or yours, gifted by a professor who you get lunch with every other week.

it was never that he didn’t want to read it—he means it, really. he’d always try to sneak glances while you were writing in it, and you’d tsk and laugh at him while pulling the papers up to your chest. in a weird way, it felt wrong to read it after you’d given it to him—like he hadn’t earned it, or like he’d be looking at something all too personal that hadn’t been there during all those failed attempts.

the fan lifts up the cover again, and this time, he sneaks his index finger under it, flipping to the first page.

i don’t normally fill the first pages of notebooks, it reads, scrawled out in your too-neat handwriting that he’s always made fun of. but it’s a good thing, you continue, because this way i get to fill this page with this. you finally get your way, tetsurou. you can read the notebook. i’m so—underlined three times, drawn a little darker, he can feel the sarcasm seeping through the pencil led—proud of you.

and then at the bottom, one more bit.

and by the way, do NOT tell me when you read this. don’t even mention it to me at all. this is embarrassing enough as is.

he lets out that stupid breath of laughter through his nose. those uninterested texts suddenly make a little more sense. he turns the next page.

i’ve met someone infuriating, it reads. crooked smiles, tequila-drenched breath, eyes made just to match. he leans in close when he speaks, laughter bubbling between words and fanning his warm breath across my ear and neck.

and then there’s that pull. i couldn’t put a name to it if i tried. that sweet tingling across my skin whenever he gets close enough; it feels like someone’s placed magnets beneath the surface of my flesh, and he’s holding their pair.

i knew we were going to kiss before he ever got that close—and i think he did too. he was too warm, too enticing, too, well, magnetic for anything else. and i love watching his brows furrow at the sound of my voice—indifferent, maybe a little cold. a comment about his big nose in return for one about my pretty eyes.

and all at once, kuroo knows this moment. the fan acts as a poor imitation of the cool october breeze—but it feels similar, all the same. it wasn’t quite halloween but at every party, you could see hints of it popping up in the corners. window decals of a witch and a ghost hanging in someone’s room, pumpkin carving kits tucked against the wall because no one had planned for a place to store them.

it was hardly the first time he’d talked to you—much less the first time he’d seen you—but you are right. he did know he was going to kiss you that night.

the fan catches one of his old posters behind him—making the thick paper scrape against his wall. the noise makes him turn. it’s an old periodic table (groan) and now it’s starting to get a little tattered at the edges. the fan catches again, this time on the notebook, and flips to another page.

kuroo allows it—call it fate or languor—and flattens out the notebook onto this new page.

i don’t know if you know this, it starts, but you fell asleep last night. shocking, i know, but it was before me, in my bed. you were sprawled out on my sheets—taking every inch of space you could in my mediocre full-size.

two weeks ago you told me you loved me. i didn’t know what to say. i laughed and kissed you and maybe said thank you. you took it like a champ while i dipped tofu into panko crumbs.

but tonight, i whispered it to you. once, twice, a third time—my lips brushing against the curve of your ear. i stopped every time you tossed or turned—i love, i would begin, and then hold my breath until your body stilled against mine. you, i breathed out. warm and all mine for tonight.

and kuroo has always known that you’re a writer—a good one, at that, from all those nights reading over your latest essay or poem for class, but this is different.

you like to write break-up poems for class—all about him, all fictionalized (he hopes) and all there to get a bit of a rise out of him, he knows. you love to write about the grand, the grotesque, things that he couldn’t put words to describe and you always did.

you had never written about him like this. or not to his face, anyway, and yet here it was—laid out in front of him, your handwriting looping around the college-ruled lines.

he flicks through a few more pages, fanning them out underneath the slow glide of his thumb—the fan swirling them in front of him faster than he wants, so he has to do it once, twice, and then again—a third. they’re not all about him, some are about her roommate, others about an essay or a concept that kuroo couldn’t put a name to. but most center him—in one view or another.

his grandmother clatters a few pans downstairs, a sharp clanging of metal hitting just beneath his floors. he can hear his dad call to her, his grandfather watching the tv 4 clicks too loud.

but here, with his rickety fan and tattered posters and his claustrophobic childhood scattered around him, he also has you. his phone buzzes next to him.

i think my job hates me btw, you send, and then another. how was your day off?

good, he replies, read a little.

anything good?

and because kuroo is so compliant to your word—perhaps maliciously so—he replies.

eh. not really. he smiles to only himself. maybe i’ll tell you about it later.

[sunafc]

Just an act - 10, the boyfriend

masterlist

Y/n could see her ex making his way to her and part of her wanted to run away or to punch him or to insult him, but another part of her was paralyzed in place and desperately wanting to talk to him again.

She tries to concentrate on what Kuroo is telling her, she can only make out the words class and professor and then her ex is in front of her. It’s been three years since the breakup, it wasn’t a too bad one — mostly just sad — but she feels slightly nervous to talk to him again. She looks for Kuroo’s hand to hold and when he interlocks his fingers with her she feels a little better.

‘Hi, Y/n,’ the guy waves at her, ‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’

She nods, ‘It has,’ it hasn’t really, not for her. She feels like fifty years could not be enough, but she doesn’t care about actually being honest right now.

Kuroo leans down and, trying his best to be discreet, he asks Y/n who the guy is.

‘Oh, this is my ex,’ she says, not discreet at all, ‘But it’s all good,’ mostly, though she leaves that out.

Kuroo has a big smile plastered on his face — definitely not genuine, Y/n notices — as he extends his hand out ‘I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,’ they shake hands, ‘The boyfriend.’

Y/n’s head snaps towards Kuroo and maybe, just maybe, it’s finally her turn to get flustered. She wasn’t expecting him to say that, her ex probably wasn’t either by the look on his face.

‘Are you visiting?’ Y/n asks, to change the subject.

The guy hums, lips still kind of pursed in annoyance, ‘Yeah, came to see my parents,’ his face relaxes a little, ‘They’re doing fine,’ he adds before Y/n could ask about it.

‘That’s good,’ she says about the parents, but she also feels relieved by the fact that he’s only visiting and not moving back to stay. She couldn’t possibly survive the anxiety of risking to meet him every time she would leave her house.

‘Alright then, I’ll let you guys continue your date,’ the guy says with a faint smile, ‘I wouldn’t want to steal her back,’ he winks at Kuroo — who can hardly hide the murderous intent in his eyes.

‘Funny,’ Kuroo says, not even chuckling.

‘Right... Let’s go,’ Y/n waves at her ex and then, still holding Kuroo’s hand, walks away letting out a sigh.

Kuroo squeezes her hands, ‘Are you alright? You seemed a little tense.’

‘I– Yeah, I’m fine,’ she then looks at him with a teasing smirk, ‘Are you?’ she gets a questioning look from Kuroo, ‘You seemed a little jealous,’ she says, full on smiling now.

Kuroo avoids her gaze and turns his head to the side, though Y/n can still see his ears turning red, ‘I wasn’t,’ he says ‘That guy was just annoying, that’s all.’

‘Okay,’ she swings their hands a little.

‘I’m being serious though, are you okay?’ Kuroo asks mainting eye contact, preventing the girl to avoid him, ‘Was he a dick?’

‘No,’ Y/n sighs, ‘No, it’s just a bit complicated,’ she laughs bitterly, ‘Let’s meet Pixel and then I’ll tell you all about it, if you want.’

Kuroo’s room is a bit of a mess, the fact that he shares it with bokuto definitely doesn’t help. Y/n takes notice that Kuroo’s bed is comfortable. She’s laying on it curled up on one side, head resting in Kuroo’s lap. Y/n starts talking, taking deep breaths now and then. Kuroo listen to her, he hums and nods, he plays with her hair.

‘I loved him,’ she says, ‘He loved me too, I know he did,’ her voice is flat as she speaks, ‘But it wasn’t good for either of us, he had some unresolved traumas and he expected me to solve it for him so instead I got traumatised too,’ a big breath, ‘I haven’t really dated anyone after him, nothing serious at least,’ Y/n sits up, next to Kuroo, side by side, ‘Wanna know what I miss the most?’ — He nods — A tear falls down her cheek, followed by a second and a third and soon she’s crying, full on sobbing, ‘I’m sorry,’ she manages to say.

‘No need to apologise,’ Kuroo guides her to rest her head on his shoulder, ‘I’m here, it’s all good,’ he wraps his arms around the girl and lets her calm down.

‘I miss what it could’ve been the most,’ she says in a whisper, ‘I miss what I thought we would’ve been when we got together,’ she shakes her head, grimacing, ‘This is so stupid, it’s been three years already and I still cry about it.’

‘No one is rushing you, Y/n, take your time.’

Maybe it’s the sweet way in which he said those words, maybe it’s the gentle way he’s holding her or, maybe, the way she feels heard, but whatever the reason her heart feels lighter and her mind too. A few more tears fall from her eyes.

notes:

– y/n enjoys online shopping a normal amount

– y/n's ex doesn't have a name bc he doesn't deserve one and i couldn't be bothered to come up with one

– her ex lives in a nearby city so luckily they never see each other or y/n would probably go insane

– she still cares for him even after everything that happened because she knows what he went through and she can't help but feel for him

– kuroo was a little jealous, he can't help it he's a scorpio

– kuroo is in loveeee 💞💗💕💞💓💕

– i hope there aren't too many typos/mistakes in the written portions.. i checked but i always leave something behind somehow 🫠

taglist: @mimi3lover @loveliepa @cryptictheseus @yuminako @xiakyo @httpakkeiji @keioover @ghostgoosygoose @bobblyobbly @phoenix-eclipses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @v-e-r-t21 @azharyy @some-beans @hilichurl-lover @needtoloveoutloud @cyb-rdva @worldgyu @wyrcan @mawhve @kozu-chan @dreamsofnaughtiness @mfcherry @piapiaweee3 @staygoldsquatchling02 @uhnanix @kuro-ohno @exhailodile @giocriedpower @momoriii-i @honeyfewr @okkupid @asp7n @staarism @gojossixtheyes @localgaytrainwreck @opchara @whosmarjj @millie-the-goth @lilchubbyyy @juie13 @h3xi2g0n3 @myeomiz @kodzuken-hoe @girlkissersco @jadeoru @spiderlily-w1tch-blog @fiannee @thillusionist @juliluvhz taglist closed!

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

fic recs masterlist pt 2

So here's a part two to my first fic rec list because I thought the first list was too long to add more or I've only read them more recently

Haikyuu!

you're all i see, you're all i need by DailyMelody: iwaoi fic where iwaizumi lies to his family that he and oikawa are dating and he slowly realizes they haven't been faking their feelings, nsfw in the last chapter

Sprout, Bloom, Grow by SpaceJammie: matsuhana and iwaoi fic from the perspective of matsukawa, this is probably my fav hq I'm keeping up with rn, the characterizations and story are so deep and well written, unfinished

Let the Light Out by UhohShouto: post canon kagehina fic where kageyama realizes he's super into hinata and they make a bet that leads to them smooching and doing much more, nsfw

what i really mean by solyn: kuroken fic where they're both sort of clueless about their feelings while everyone else around them knows they're in love, nsfw

it drives you crazy getting old by atsumusbiceps: a sakuatsu 13 Going On 30 au that's absolutely adorable, omi is in love from the beginning but atsumu thinks being angry and attracted to someone is normal

Gray in the Middle. by DeadDrabble (MisakillDatMonkey): crazy good sunaosa fic where suna is a model and osamu is his new assistant, the development of their friendship while osamu slowly gets to see the real suna and coming to see the toxicity of the fashion industry, unfinished, future nsfw

Sakusa Kiyoomi's Short and Unhelpful Guide To Falling In Love by honest_pebble: sakuatsu fic where omi asks for atsumu to kiss one drunken night and they can't seem to keep their hands off each other in the months after

i pretend you're mine, all the damn time by theglitterati: bokuaka high school fic where bokuto is nervous about his lack of experience when a girl asks him out so he asks akaashi to help him learn how to kiss, very cute and silly

sleeping with strangers by starbeyy: kagehina fic where kageyama is a lawyer that's afraid of attachment and only sleeps with strangers until he gets an extremely cute client that makes him less afraid, nsfw in later chapters

Take a hint by badreputation: sunaosa fic where suna doesn't realize osamu is trying to woo him and is just an oblivious dummy

i sing the body electric by viverella: iwaoi getting together fic where iwaizumi beings to realize he doesn't have entirely platonic feelings about his best friend

dearly departed by radiantradish: daisuga ghost au where suga is stuck in limbo while he's in a coma and daichi is a firefighter that keeps dreaming about him

Winter is Red by MeikoAtsushi: technically this is the sunaosa spin-off to their original sakuatsu fic but the premise is that osamu can see the red threads of fate that tie soulmates together but he doesn't have one and falls in love with suna anyway, this fic is fucking PAINFUL because osamu is determined to make his life miserable and try to push suna away but he can never stay away for long, nsfw

the posterior probablity by izayas: sakuatsu au where omi is a professor and atsumu is an m.d. who's taking his class and they fall in love lol

SunKissed by Paintbrushyy_Ducky98: bokuaka fic where akaashi's family's new pool boy is really cute and he sort of seems familiar... nsfw

favor from the boy you can't resist by crossbelladonna: bokuaka fic where bokuto asks akaashi to be his fake boyfriend and things go as well as you'd expect

Miles by lettersinpetals: kuroken post canon/during chapter 402.1 fic where kuroo is very aware of his love for kenma but is convinced kenma doesn't feel the same

Night Moves by fluorophoring: kuroken fic where they just keep hooking up at night without actually dating or discussing their feelings, heavy nsfw

What to Do (to You) by Mooifyourecows: iwaoi fic where matsuhana set them up on a blind date despite already being roommates and having crushes on each other, nsfw

take me the way i am by almostsophie1: kuroken fic where kuroo wants to know if kenma is willing to have sex with him just to "practice", nsfw obviously

spill my guts by wasted: bokuaka fic where akaashi is a massive pining simp and doesn't know what to do about his crush

Legend Has It by sifuhotman: sunaosa crime au??? i literally think about this fic all the time and how it's not finished, such an interesting plot with osamu as a detective and suna is a con artist who has connections to some underground crime syndicates, the last chapter posted legit made me cry, i really identify with osamu in this fic, nsfw in later chapters

Miscellaneous

Apple of Your Eye by Kattythingz: sk8 renga fic but it's if Adam became obsessed with Reki instead of Langa, highkey NUTS how good Adam's characterization is because you want to bash his skull in with a hammer

A Crown of Gems and Gold by Kattythingz: fma edling fic that's basically a rewrite of the entire series but if edling got together soon after their first meeting, the best characterization, action, and dialogue ever utilized in writing, unfinished but ongoing

Always an Angel, Never a God by oktsukki: jjk satosugu au where hidden inventory didn't end as bad as they did in canon, a lot of good healing and characterization

lights out by phollie: hxh killugon fic where killua is just very soft about gon as gon shows him around the island he grew up on

Sword of Damocles by orphan_account: mp100 terumob au fic where teruki asks mob out as a joke but he actually starts to fall for him

[tiramizuloz]

Summer love - kuroo tetsurou

synopsis: having been assigned to write to a pen pal by her professor, she finds herself slowly falling in love with him.

content: timeskip kuroo, fem reader, university au, reader is oblivious, fluff, happy ending, sfw, may be ooc, cursing, kys and sexual jokes.

status: completed

profiles: california girls | alpha bros

chapters:

i. Pen Pal..? Ugh.

ii. Hello Stranger!! ヾ(*'▽'*)

iii. East Europe travels?? Woahh!

iv. How did you know I was a Scorpio?!

v. Let's meet up, Stranger! >.<

vi. Meeting!! :3

vii. Lovebirds

© tiramizuloz all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

[hxltic]

CHIROPRACTOR BOKUTO KŌTARŌ

• Best friend/Tutor

• Warnings: grinding, pussy eatin!!, female reader (please don’t trust anything scientific I write, this is barely researched and I am not licensed).

• Summary: Bokuto wasn’t physically feeling well, but due to his good nature, pushed it aside. Although you were to help him with studies, you were far from blind. Luckily your major was almost perfect for the moment. He let you test your skills on him, so your hands roamed his body. Maybe it came off more sexual than intended…

“Ughhh…” Bokuto groans.

A creak sounds from far behind you, alluding at the door opening. The sound of the fan gyrating in the background of the apartment slowly dissipates with the air, you assume, because stepping out right after his hot shower then being hit with the cold is the least pleasant thing in the world to him.

You take a sip of the lemonade that resides on the coffee table in front of you. The giant living room TV played whatever sitcom was aired ever since Bo kindly got you as comfy as possible for when he got back, but with your head buried in a book and a gel pen in your hand, it was of no use to you. Finally dressed, he returned.

However, he returned with his right hand placed on his left collarbone, rotating the left shoulder accordingly.

“Are you alright?” You ask. You didn’t look up. Thank god for your intensified range of peripheral vision from reading, seeing the man beside you with naturally fallen hair and water droplets still journeying through curves of his body in full attention would absolutely break you.

Yes, he was your best friend—but you were still a woman with eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Must’ve just overdid it at practice,” he casually replies. You recognized the tone. Despite his loud tendencies, he was being quiet with you because of the item in your criss-crossed lap. The word “just” also apprised you not to worry.

He leans back on the couch with his full attention gravitating towards you.

“Alright Professor, what’s first?” Professor.

Bokuto was the most careless person you knew. He was also the most careful person you knew. Yes he was clumsy, yes he lost things easily, and maybe doesn’t understand others—but he tries. Despite many beliefs, he was extremely attentive on and off the court; his ability to read the room peaks anyone you’ve ever held conversation with. Most of the time he just willfully ignores it. He cared tremendously for anything that was close to him, hence the low volume of the television and the torrential downpour outside to compliment his high focus to your efforts in helping.

He set the room right for you, cleaning up, and being on his best behavior. You doubt he would’ve done such a thing for Kuroo (because he knows of your high expectations for him and he wishes to please you), so you admire the ability to plan his day fit. And the special treatment.

You flipped the book to your right, letting him survey the page without having to crook his head.

“Geographical Impact on Culture Practices and Language,” he reads the subtitle. He then looks at you for confirmation.

“We’re starting with Greece. Then we’ll move to India, then China,” you declare.

“Alright, we’re moving east.” He nods.

You smile and praise, “A great start.”

You’ve come to find the way he learns best is when he knows he’s doing something correctly, and also when he gets something wrong. However with the latter, he has to wield some determination, otherwise he’ll just lose faith in himself. Luckily that has yet to happen.

———

Some time into the practice you recognize the progress that he’s made. With each tutoring he has almost doubled the amount of pages the two of you have gone through, gradually picking up more and more information to build off of. His vocabulary has undeniably grown as well.

“China—as a sphere of influence,” he briskly catches himself: “kept good look on the Mongols because they knew of their ravaging proclivities, while also having almost complete isolation from the rest of the world. The ocean, steppes, deserts, and plateaus were a sense of protection, starting with the Tibetian.” He recites. His notes were short but sweet, he clearly writes down what he doesn’t think he’ll remember. Other than that, he can take a swift look at the topic and depend on memory for the rest.

“Bingo! that sounded great Ko.” You take your glasses off and blink a little, cleaning them off with a handkerchief you keep around. They resume their spot on your nose.

At some point earlier you scooted a little closer, shoulder to shoulder, so you could hold the book and review his notes at the same time. The soap he used you could probably guess the scent of. Once you lifted off him for your lens cleaning, Bokuto runs a hand through his hair and exhales happily, content with himself. He hisses though, quickly contorting his expression to one of pain.

“Shit,” he curses. He attempts to soothe himself by rubbing slow circles on your previous spot. He said it wasn’t anything (even though you doubted his statement from the beginning), yet you leaned on him anyway. You hadn’t meant to hurt him.

“Crap- sorry, was I on it?” You already knew the answer, but it didn’t seem like it was hurting him. Maybe the pressure didn’t matter in the moment, but when your weight came off, the pain returned with what it yielded.

“I didn’t think you were. You’re okay, I’ll put something on it.” He reassures.

“How does it hurt?” He mentally processes your interrogation before answering, probably thinking if Biofreeze would work.

“…It feels tight. Like something is tugging on it and won’t let go.”

“Does it hurt when you tilt your head like this?” You make the movement. He then mimics your action and shakes his head no. “Try the other side.”

He holds a face of slight confusion while attending to your order. He rapidly forms the previous countenance, an obvious sign of discomfort.

“It looks like an overworked muscle, so you were right. But you still need to tend to it.”

Your advice runs through his ear but out the other. You notice his absence of mind and slightly press on the sore shoulder blade spot in front of you to remind him, then it sticks to his brain what he needs to do. Hell, he was an athlete. He’s been told at least a thousand times.

“Can you stretch it out for me?” He asks innocently. Why not?

“Sure,” you agree. “Stand up.”

Following your orders has become his second nature. He knows you wouldn’t sabotage him in any way, so there’s no reason to defy them. You stand behind him, then walk to the open space of the apartment while instructing him to lay down on his stomach. Watching him obediently get to his knees and his muscles involuntarily flex in the short-sleeve shirt he wears does something to you (you’ll never say what). He does a single effortless push-up down to the floor. He lays silently, with his cheek resting in folded arms.

“It’s kinda cold down here.”

“Whatever,” you giggle, and follow him down. Fuck, it is kinda cold. Anyway, you go to check to see how his body is aligned. “I’m gonna lift your shirt up, ‘kay? Just sit still.”

He hums in acknowledgement and you’re pretty sure his eyes close. Your fingertips find the end of the thin cotton that does great things for his sharp figure, and lift only the back part. He slightly raises his body from his core, allowing you to pull just a little harder and get past his waist, leading to finally slipping it up to his under-arms. He aggravatingly groans at the temperature below him. You try your best to remember the context of said groan, while also ignoring the thought of his carved chest pressing on the hardwood.

The small things he does that prove his pure strength get your mind roaming. Being able to do push-ups with quickness, having utter control over his core, lifting heavy things with ease—you need to get a hold of yourself.

You run your hands along the freshly-washed, soft, skin of his back. It was an awkward angle being on his side, so you hesitantly swing your leg over, and reside right before his spine ends. Please, please don’t come off the wrong way. He lets out a heavy breath.

“Lay your hands outwards naturally.” He shifts. His left shoulder blade was slightly higher than the right, showing clear tension.

“You’re right handed, correct?” You inquire.

“Correct.” It comes out low and throaty, his face pressed to the floor. He was quiet every time you were around. He knew you appreciated few words—especially in a moment dedicated to studies and reading—so he’d trade out his loud self for your comfort, even if you didn’t mind the usual Bokuto that drew you to him the first time you met. He almost sounded tired.

You place your hands in the space between the scapula and press slightly. “Does it hurt there?”

“No ma’am.”

“So it’s only the left then. I’m going to run my hands along the bone while also pressuring the muscle. It’ll hurt a little, so just tell me when to stop.” Bokuto giggles a little, just airy enough to be able to hear. You don’t even acknowledge it because you don’t wish to be lead to the same sexual depravity his mind is situated in. Not like yours is any better.

You roll your hands through the muscle, upwards towards his deltoid, working it with a technique you were taught. This hopefully loosens it up the slightest bit if you were doing it right. You also tell him he could resume his previous position since you could sense how uncomfortable he was.

“Based on what I’ve gathered: not only do you constantly hit with your right hand, it’s your dominant arm so almost everything everyday is done on it. With your left, however, it’s not the main focus of what you do.” Your fingertips dig into his skin.

“I’m not sure what you necessarily work on in practice but because it’s not trained for nearly as much as your right, it’s taken a toll. The tension capacities are different. The scapula are naturally connected by the trapezius muscle so this is why it hurts to lean the opposite way,” you explain. You can almost feel his astonishment as he cocks his head behind him and looks you up and down through grey lashes. He still lays down, almost unbothered by you rubbing up against his bare back whenever you move.

“Y’know you never cease to amaze me? You know a lot about my body.” He compliments slyly. You blush at the word choice. He’s been very, very testy today.

You relent, “Not just yours, we’re all human Ko. Now take a deep breath.”

“Mhmm…Anything for you,” he states sarcastically. You could tell it was sarcasm, so why did it still affect you? You rise a bit on his back from the large breath. With a sudden press to the center, he curses in shock, then follows with an animalistic groan.

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he sighs. You press his head down between his arms, lift the left one behind his neck, and connect his hand to his right blade. You only tug a little, careful not to hurt him. Another faint crack.

He moans happily. You release him from your legs, saving the both of you from the suggestive position. It would only get worse from here, for when you needed him to turn over.

“Turn over, please.” He listens and grunts on his way up. Twisting his body over, now propped on his elbows, you could tell most weight was still shifted to his right arm. Bokuto rolls down to his back.

“You’re in charge,” he exhales, running his hands over his face. You knew he had to be cold, the previous warmth you provided was canceled out completely by the cool wood. This was where you’d have to straddle him again—except now it was ten times harder, ten times more suggestive—and you couldn’t stop the slight red from decorating your skin.

“It’s gonna be a little weird at first,” you warn.

“It’s only as weird as you make it,” he smiles knowingly. His knees come up, fully prepared for you to spread over him. Not to mention his chest was still out— It was far more entrancing than his backside. Nonetheless, you swing your leg over once more, and it takes everything in the male to not instinctively place his large hands under your lower thigh to help you. The first thing you do is pull the shirt as low as possible, attempting to cover any temptations.

“What? You scared of me?” Bo entertains.

You clear your throat more for stabilizing yourself, “No, it’s just not necessary at the moment. Left hand over your chest.”

“Sure,” he pushes incredulously, even you could tell he wasn’t the least bit convinced. You’re really fucking scared.

He crosses his left hand over his chest like a salute. His eyes never leave yours under long grey and black hair, except for when you order him to take another deep breath. You grab his arm and push left swiftly, but the pop sounds from his lower back. You must’ve pushed him too far left but he wasn’t complaining. “Sorry, one more time.” You lay forwards, building the strength to push more downwards this time into him, then finally get the spot you hoped for. His mouth opens for a moan again, nothing sounds but a breath of air.

“I would literally pay you for that. Is this just a secret talent?” He breathlessly questions.

“I major in exercise science, so we do a lot of studies on biology and human anatomy. The rest I just kind of guessed to be honest.”

Once he comes down from the feeling and opens his eyes to you still close on his chest, his head goes to dangerous places. Especially since you were smiling at him from your proud work and your back had a slight arch to it. This angle made your proportions completely surreal, your ass enlarging and your waist thinning at the hands of perspective. Of course, you did also just push with a significant amount of quick pressure directly into his groin.

“Okay, how does it feel?” You push up eagerly with your hands on his clothed chest. Your palms were perfectly atop his breasts.

“Like I need a cold shower.”

Surprisingly, you agree with this statement, it was good for the body and should be talked about more for people farther than athletes.

“Good. It’s great for relaxing the sore muscle,” You smile innocently. Ko laughs mainly to himself, “Yeah, it is.”

Your hair falls around your shoulders and over his head. His beautiful golden eyes were almost hidden by his long hair, but those large, expressive eyebrows could be spotted anywhere. They allowed you to read him like a book. At some point, your hands started slightly roaming the surface of his hard body, and your smile fell. You were subconsciously inching closer and closer to him.

Bokuto was disposed to let it happen. You’d been subtly rubbing up on him all day, and most of his words were limited because of you. God, how he loved listening to you go on and on about the subject he hated most, it made him at a loss for words; a rare feeling for someone who always had something to say. Your glasses framed your face perfectly, and your educated speech had him locked up in a poetic cage that you wielded the key to. The worst part is? He wasn’t sure if he wanted it unlocked.

You were already so close to him, his body, so when he brushed a piece of hair back with his fingertips and manually removed your glasses in a way that wouldn’t hurt you, you halted. It was almost like your conscious returned, telling you every bad effect possible. The angel on your shoulder was momentarily silenced by the devil, but finally broke free of the reigns just to declaim you the consequences of your decisions.

“Wait Ko,” you begin, “I-I um…don’t think we should.” You moderately shake your head. “It’ll change things.”

Your voice barely peeks above a whisper. He watched as the realization hit, your eyebrows upturned.

“Isn’t that the fun in it?” His eyes train to your lips before they finally find yours. “Things change all the time,” he smiles hopelessly. His large hand weaves through your hair and pulls you down to him.

Just like that, you were sold. Your full lips meet.

You moan gently in his mouth and fall chest to chest. Now your arch was fully purposeful. Pecks and sweet kisses dissolved into longer ones, it didn’t take long before he was sucking on your tongue like candy. You took up the job of twisting your head to search deeper into his throat, his current position rendering him unable to do what he desires to be doing to you. You think of the possibilities.

Maybe he’d take you on the wall with both legs under his control, slamming into you as you grab onto whatever leverage you could find. Or, he would bend you over in the shower with several fingers inside you and a hand on your throat, your body stuttering as the hot liquid runs down to the drain. You audibly moaned at this on accident.

Desperate, you grind down into him. His hands grip the fat of your ass, but he pulls from your puffy lips and away from your ruffled hair.

“Whatcha thinkin of? Can see it on your face.”

Your strong, independent woman composure was crumbling by the second above him, “Nothing,” you gasp, “just thinking.” He nips at your jaw, then follows down to your neck. He touches on a spot that’s always been sensitive, causing you to let out a keening whine, but he doesn’t say anything, so you assume he wants you to elaborate. You unintentionally moan, “Yes,” and he laughs into your neck.

“Tell me what about.” He’s pushing you further; seeing how much information he could get to leak out of you based off how far gone you were.

“You…touching me,” You reply, fully prepared for what he’s about to ask you next. You’ve read enough books to know. But that wasn’t the issue in question, it was how you’d reply. Would you crumble and shy away, or be bold and instruct him to give it to you? Would you elucidate it to him with the praising tone you know he adores?

“How was I touching you y/n?” Your name rolled so prettily off his kissing tongue. His grip on you tightened awaiting your answer, a problem beneath you that’s risen figuratively and literally.

“Um…” your blush spread so you tucked your face in his neck. “Your fingers were inside.”

It was a lot harder than it looks.

“Is that what you want?” A big grin spreads across his face—you can feel it.

“Yes.”

He finds your legs situated around his waist, sits up, and somehow comes to his feet. You were at least 5 feet in the air now. He casually walks to the couch and flips you on it, but a jagged edge cuts into your back.

“Book, ow ow-“ you wince in pain. By instinct you lifted back up, where he was already prying away the notebook hidden behind the pillows. He sends an apologetic smile and drags you along by your legs once the regained sexual drive returned. Next leaves your jeans.

Just waiting to see his prize, he gets them off quickly. The panties you wore were nothing absolutely special, but they were still lacy nonetheless; your previous being not finding a thong necessary on the way here. Bokuto could care less. The time you took thinking about it was the time he took to rip them off.

You scolded him for it, to which he responded “I’ll buy you any more you want” while punctually kissing your thighs. At the same time his fingers rose and spread your top folds, revealing the wetness you’ve gathered over the span of the past 10 minutes. He dunks a single finger in shallowly, then further pushes the digit deeper, and then turns it upside down so he could curl upwards. His large eyes focus on your heavy-breath reactions while his mouth licks away at your clit. The finger eventually comes out.

“Ko,” you utter. He hums in your pussy with his tongue swirling around. “You aren’t learning like this.” His throaty laugh reverberates up your center and through your body.

“Teach me.”

Once you get what he means, slowly, you reach for the casted away book as he holds your hips in place. It has proven harder than anticipated. His large arms encased your legs, wrapping around your thighs like a fucking present. You should’ve known he’d love it like this; it’s just you assumed he’d favor breathing.

Your glasses were in someplace on the floor elsewhere. Good thing you were near-sighted, but with how he was doing you, it would continue to be cumbersome. You open to a familiar page, already cracking when he sucks at your skin, but you resume a reviewing lesson nonetheless.

“Greece is—hmm—located in Europe,” you take a deep breath, “on the Mediterranean and just to the right of—“

“—The Italian Peninsula.” He completes. He slips two fingers in, scissoring you out and almost toying with you at this point. You were so, unbelievably wet.

You squirm in his hold and brush hair out of your face. He noticed how your eyebrows were forced upwards the slightest bit, resulting in a growing, complacent smile against your pussy lips. “Greece is surrounded by many little islands and water, therefore—”

“—Inducing maritime trade,”

“…And?” Your eyes shutter closed in the moment. The textbook was slowly dropping from your chest.

“Shipbuilding.” Breath fanned against your already extremely responsive body. Deliriously, you slightly open your eyes to find Kotarou’s jawline constantly moving with his pink tongue. He knew when to fill in the blank based off when you lowered the book to see him, expecting an answer. He’d never move away when speaking and just proceeded on with his job. So adroit, the male was—still tactful too, you had to be reading 10x less than your average speed.

You clear your throat, trying your best not to moan while reciting like earlier.

“The soil wasn’t ideal, so majority of the food was—“

“—olives, grapes, ‘n fish.” He was more muffled since the two fingers he had running through you were now pumping soothingly, and when he curled upwards again, the book slid off your breasts, prompted by the sudden arch you displayed, and even further bolstered by your fingers weaving through his hair.

“Great fucking job Ko, just like that.” The praise falls from your mouth and only provokes him to slurp and suck on your pussy harder. Of course, the words could’ve been relative to the studies, but both ways work. The squelch sounds relay through your brain.

His (somewhat) free left hand comes under your shirt, adventures it’s way past your bra. His large hand carries a respective imprint under your shirt. When he feels around the round of your breasts, he slows around your nipple, just waiting to suck on them when he gets the chance.

Feeling you up was his literal favorite thing ever. The thought of your hips automatically rolling up into his touch purely by will and desire fuels his brain in unimaginable ways. Calloused yet soft hands gliding along every curve and roll to memorize the trek of your body, the responses and reactions gathering into knowledge for reservation.

Your right leg was thrown over his shoulder, to which his bicep curled around to reach your upper body where his head dug through your lower. You were so close to nothing and everything, like something in you was held taut, just the interval alone precipitating another hiatus in your mind. His hand rolled around your breast almost as if it were a handle.

“That’s so good Kotarou, don’t stop—show me how good you eat it for me,”

He tried his best to circle his face around and flick the muscle over your clit. There wasn’t much room to move. An easy adapter he was, so he removed his digits and hugged you tight with twain arms. He held his tongue flat and idle, allowing full consent for your hips to gyrate and stutter on his face as you pleased. His long, variegated, fallen hair was threaded through your nails while he moaned himself encouragingly until finally, it snapped.

A loud stream of mushed words and imprecations poured from your lips and reflected off the walls into his covered ears. Unconsciously, legs locked around his head to prohibit his quit, and if your neurological clearheaded mind were apprised that the fingers drenched with your own slick were slipping over your abdomen, the feeling alone would’ve turned you over. However, it wasn’t, therefore creating the most mind-altering orgasm you’ve ever had.

All you could do was laugh whole-heartedly towards the ceiling at the whole thing as it washed over you. It was the epitome of cliche. You were his tutor, helping him out, and somehow ended up landing on the couch with his face betwixt you. His golden eyes were nothing short of a symbol of his happiness, proud of himself and you. You were definitely proud of him too.

No more failed tests!

© hxltic

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — caving in

prev: spaces inbetween | masterlist | next: remember to be patient!

when he gets to her apartment, he feels like an intruder.

he stands outside the front door, an iced coffee in hand (specially made by kuroo) and an apology in his head, carefully scripted out during his trip. soft pitter patters of slippers against old wood draw closer, and he recognizes it as her. she pauses for a second before welcoming him in. something is off.

they continue as usual. he sits across from her on the carpet, listening intently while she draws out guides to illustrate each concept for him. she's focused -- more than usual -- and he assumes it's because of how close the end is nearing.

he wonders if they'll continue this schedule when the semester ends. he hopes that, by fate, they end up in another class together, and they'll continue to meet up every thursday to talk about their friends and their bad professors and their upcoming tests. when he looks around her room, then at her, he realizes how out of reach that idea is.

she pauses for a minute so he can finish his notes, taking slow, tantalizing sips of the coffee. it's the same flavor he got her the first time, laced with lavender and cinnamon.

deep inside, there's a flicker of hope that she mentions it. that, once the studying is over, they'll have a calm and composed conversation about what happened last wednesday.

but she never does, at least not for a while. she sits in silence, her distance -- both physical and emotional -- evident in the way she looks away and doesn't say a word. the apology he crafted minutes before he arrived returns to his head, and he's about to gift it to her, heartfelt words and all, until she says something first.

"you didn't ruin anything, if that's what you're thinking." her voice wafts throughout the room and pulls him out of his thoughts. he recalls the punch he threw and the red imprint blossoming on her stepfather's jaw, the image burned into his retinas for an eternity. he still feels bad for it, but with the way she reacted to his appearance, he isn't sure if he should feel any guilt for the man. "i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable, though."

"you didn't. not at all," he rushes. a dusting of pink coats the tips of his ears, and she finds it amusing. memories of the hallway slowly seep in. he remembers his palms on her skin and their foreheads ghosting against one another. he remembers the call from tsukishima, his concern piercing through the phone's speaker. he remembers sitting on the edge of her bathtub, an ice pack held to his face while she tended to his torn knuckles in silence, and he questions what it meant to her.

the physical space between them seems to grow the more the quietude drags on. she can't find it in herself to look at him any longer, in fear of making another impulsive decision.

her life has been thrown off balance, she realizes. no longer is there solely an overwhelming drive for success, so much so that it renders her entire being secure and alone. another factor has been implemented into her daily life. she doesn't know how to handle it.

she thinks of the years spent devoted to her studies, consisting of late nights in libraries and incoherent notes that only made sense to her. she thinks of her passion for art that had been slowly sharpened and refined until it was no longer a skill, but a weapon against herself and her well-being. she thinks of the dreams of the little girl trapped within the confines of her heart, who yearned every day to separate from what she had grown into and become something more. she wonders where he would fit into that, should she allow him to, and if he'd willingly bear the burden of her being.

the gentle thump of her heart against her chest escalates when she looks up to find him staring back. there's something resolute in his eyes as if he's come to a conclusion. a moment of rationality slips through -- she needs to catch up. she needs to restore her former fervor and pick up the pieces she'd left behind, even if it means spending hours upon hours dedicated to work once more. but kageyama tobio has proven to be the strongest opposition to the rules she had crafted for herself since her youth.

so she caves in.

the call of his name from her lips shifts the air around them. her coffee is long forgotten, the condensation wetting the fluff of her carpet. there's another pause before she asks him why he wouldn't mind, although she knows the answer already. she just wants to hear it from him. just to make sure.

"because i like you. a lot."

a small crack of a smile forms on her face, and he finds it much too infectious. he doesn't know why he's so drawn to her. he doesn't know why his hands gravitate towards her waist, allowing him to lean forward and kiss her again, without a bloodied nose and marred knuckles. he doesn't know why he can't break away from her, even with her hands loosely hanging on his shoulders.

it's still instinctual. but this time, she doesn't mind it as much.

𝜗𝜚 yn was genuinely so upset at herself for the whole week of no contact because she's not used to being so vulnerable for one person. she was trying to convince herself that it was wrong this whole time (bc she had goals, both artistic and academic) but clearly she can only put up a fight for so long bc kageyama was so insistent on disrupting the routine she had grown so accustomed to

𝜗𝜚 bokuto genuinely does believe they had sex in the hallway (it's his way of showing support)

𝜗𝜚 yachi and yamaguchi debriefed the entire situation in tsukishima's room (he complained outwardly, but he's rlly invested) and they're so happy but also so shocked bc of how much kags was willing to do for her despite how off-putting yn was at times LOL

𝜗𝜚 post makeout yn revealed that she had not in fact kissed anyone before bc of her grudge against herself (swearing off romance in exchange for her success yada yada) and kags genuinely was so shocked

𝜗𝜚 he did go home afterwards bc he felt bad for staying so long

𝜗𝜚 yn definitely wanted to ask him to stay the night (because it felt right, but in all honesty she's very clueless when it comes to situations like these) but she decided not to because it was just so out of character for her

𝜗𝜚 kageyama will never stop thinking about this tutoring session like ever he is so smitten with yn and he definitely feels very achieved. all he wants is for her to be happy </3

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @fiannee @minimarkive

[guitarstringed-scars]

cantaloupe island

masterlist

chapter 2- red clay

as you walk onto the small, makeshift stage you feel completely at home. the restaurant is packed, and you spot familiar faces crowded around. a professor from university, friends, family members, and other acquaintances. you see people you don't know, but you know that they must be here because of their appreciation of the music. well, except for one. one who had introduced himself as atsumu miya.

“oh, my twin brother owns the place, i’m just here to help out. i hate jazz.” he had said after you asked him why he looked so familiar. he approached you as you talked to koutaro, just looking for a pre-show snack. you were very surprised about his jazz comment, obviously you weren’t just expecting him to know who you are exactly, but so openly hating on jazz at a jazz performance seemed ballsy. almost idiotic even.

you see him in the crowd now, talking to koutaro, looking completely embarrassed. red-faced with his hands waving around, and you can only assume he’s talking about what happened moments prior. you turn your attention back to the rest of the audience as you take your seat on the piano bench.

the fallboard is already open, and you lightly run your fingers over the keys before cracking your knuckles. you stretch your back as kuroo addresses the audience. he has his alto saxophone resting across his chest as he clutches the microphone.

“hello, good evening.” he speaks into the microphone, testing it. it’s working. “hope you are all enjoying the food so far, but it’s time to get started with some music. we are the osaka quintet, a jazz group based here in town. we’ve got a great set planned out for you tonight, but i want to introduce the band first!”

the audience claps as kuroo takes a pause, the whole room is listening intently to what he says, sitting on the edge of their seats and hanging onto every word. you catch a glimpse of atsumu out of the corner of your eye, hes gone quiet, and is now surprisingly listening carefully to what kuroo says. hes not looking at kuroo though, hes looking at you. you quickly look back to the piano keys.

“i’m tetsuro kuroo, i’ll be playing all kinds of saxophone tonight, this is hitoka yachi,” he gestures to her and she waves with her free hand. its a quick, nervous wave. “she’ll be on the trumpet… we’ve got keiji akaashi on bass,” a loud whoop goes up from koutaros corner of the room. you laugh a bit. “hajime iwazumi on drums, and the ever so talented y/n l/n on the piano!” you play a quick piano lick as the crowd applauds.

“we’re gonna start you off with a classic standard, red clay by freddie hubbard.” kuroo finishes with a smile before starting off the song.

every one of you freestyles at the beginning, before kuroo gives a nod. you all fall out except for iwazumi, who starts it off again. akaashi joins him after a bit. then it’s your turn. you focus in, making sure to hit every note perfectly. your eyes subconsciously flutter closed as yachi and kuroo join the rythum. the crowd is almost silent, you can tell they are all intently listening.

as the solo section approaches, you quickly take it away first, communicating with the rest of the quintet through intense eye contact. you’ve played this song many times before, as kuroo said, its a classic standard. your highschool jazz band wanted to play this song every performance, and you knew with the osaka quintet, all of you would know how to play the song.

during your solo, you focus in on the drum beat that iwa is playing. you lock your eyes on his right hand, watching it hit each beat. each note you play hangs in the air as the audience seems to breath it in.

as you come to the end of your solo, you lock eyes on kuroo. it’s his turn to take over. you fall back, taking a breath as kuroo starts his solo.

as the solo section comes to an end, the group all focuses, finishing off the song. you laugh, hitting the final notes. the audience whoops and cheers, as yachi and kuroo sip their waters. you look into the audience again, spotting atsumu. your eyes can’t seem to stop looking at him. he’s smiling, chatting with his brother. you hope he is coming around to liking jazz.

“alright, next up is night in tunisia!” kuroo announces.

fun facts:

-bokuto and y/n are like best friends but they never talk or set up plans with each other

-akaashi hates soloing, but surprisingly yachi loves it

taglist: @hyenagoated @yuminako @griocriedpower @lilchubbyyy @sagejin

@oshygoshy @sereniteav @jojo23allegra @atsumuenthusiast @mikauraurr

@garfieldissocool @savemebrazilhinata @osakis-gf @acowboykisser @froyaoya

@nbcvs @mylahrins @19calicos @wyrcan @chloiyoomi

@causenessus @diorzs @loverlunaire @s1ckntw1st3d

[shoyostar]

💫 anon asked me what the jobs of the dear future husband fiancées were and tumblr deleted it before i finished answering </3 so sorry i cant reply to ur ask!

but here is the list of all the dfh fiancée’s occupations! some have been foreshadowed / implied already if you squint really closely to some dialogue in the past two parts:)

a lot more has yet to come of this series so i’m excited to share all i can!

iwaizumi: women’s volleyball jnt athletic trainer

kuroo: supervisor and head at the JVA, sports promotion division

suna: interior designer

atsumu: clothing model

sakusa: skincare company founder / owner

bokuto: accountant

hoshiumi: journalist

kageyama: personal stylist

shoyo: PhD researcher & uni professor

ushijima: event organizer / planner

aran: social media manager

kenma: nursing student

yaku: corporate lawyer

komori: private & professional chef

[hitoshi-yuuto]

Haikyuu alternative universe

Kageyama and Hinata are a married couple who own a café and an building.

So they decided to rent the rooms in the building (building where they live)

Person living in the building

1- Osamu & Atsumu

2 - Akaashi

3 - Oikawa

4 - Noya & Tanaka

5 - Yamaguchi & Yachi

6 - Semi & Ushijima

7 - Kuroo & Yaku (Kenma)

8 - Daishou & Mika

9 - Hoshiumi,

10 - Kita & Aran

━

Work/occupation

Osamu - Cooking Student

Atsumu - Model/dancer

Akaashi - Waiter/Graphic artist

Oikawa - Psychology study/Model

Noya - Deliveryman

Tanaka - Salesperson in a sports store

Yamaguchi - Waiter/art student

Yachi - Waitress/fashion student

Semi - Waiter/Singer (Not very well known)

Ushijima - Athlete

Kuroo - Marketing study/Manager Kenma

Yaku - Barista

Kenma - Streamer

Daishou - Baseball player

Mika - Fashion student/Saleswoman

Hoshiumi - Waiter

Kita - Bookseller

Aran - Study to be a history Professor

━

Bonus Info

The first two people to move in were Yamaguchi and Yachi, who went to high school with the kageyamas

People with the profession waiter work in the Kageyamas' café

Oikawa arrived here after being thrown out of his house to be gay, and being too afraid to ask iwaizumi for help,(for fear that the same thing will happen) he ran into Kageyama (same backstory as in haikyuu except the volleyball) who took him home like a stray dog, he got his modeling job thanks to Atsumu who recommended him.

Kenma doesn't officially live here but spends 80 percent of his time here, so he's counted as Yaku and Kuroo's 3 roommates.

Mika and Daishou arrived through Yachi (she and Mika are in the same class) So she started to panic when Kuroo and Daishou started beating each other (high school rival) because she thought she had done something wrong.

Tense at first between Ushijima and Oikawa (high school rival) but it gets better after, they are now friends.

Yaku meets Lev through atsumu, they were supposed to work together.

Usually everyone has breakfast together at the Kageyamas' in the morning (apart if someone is in a hurry)

Osamu wants to open his future restaurant not far from the café to stay close to everyone.

Osamu and Atsumu once called Shouyo and Tobio Mom and Dad by accident.

They have a movie night every Saturday

They have a chat group called: The Children of the Kageyamas (Group named as such, since Osamu and Atsumu called Shouyo and Tobio Mom and dad by accident)

[shidouryusm]

𓆩♡𓆪✿༝༚༝༚ -> You're so cool. It makes me hate you so much

Kuroo x reader (gn)

word count- 2.5k words (excuse me wtaf?!)

content: hinted rivals to lovers, mutual pining, lots of bickering between reader and kuroo, mention of cunt (not in smut way).

A.n -> once again this is my worded desire of having a rivals to lover trope in my life. Also it's my first time attempting so let me know how it is. not proofread bruh it's almost 2:30am here.

The night arrives with all its glory of darkness. People marching out in costumes – fake  crimson blood dripping off the sides of their lips while face smothered in white paint, or dark cloaks shrouded their body while a skull mask decorated their face.

Loud music blares into life through the screen of your phone as you watch a small snippet of a party that was getting wilder and wilder via your bestfriend/roomate’s instagram story. She just took a swig of her drink and you were concerned how is she going to hold herself up.

Hollers of enjoyment and rhythmless singing along to songs were mixed with the deafening bass of music.  Everyone was out and about…everyone except you. 

Well, with a stuck up snob as a professor who assigned a report immediately the morning after and with final exams edging near, you had no option but be the bummer and cancel on all invites, leaving your costume hanging sadly on your closet and get down with laptops and notes. 

Frustrations bubbles inside you and FOMO nearly kills your motivation to even study. You put aside your phone, not indulging in moping over other people’s stories anymore. A sigh leaves your lips as you continue finishing the report you wished you didn’t procrastinate. 

Your mind still ponders over the party that you could have went to.

“well at the end, the little A’s splayed all over the grade sheet would be worth all of it.”

You attempt to console yourself. You shall compensate by scoring the top on the finals and rub it on the face of a certain ravenette. Smiling devilishly at the thought.

You hate to admit but a majority part of you keens to perform the best in this elective course that has remotely no relation with your major is to beat that one particular student in your class.

Kuroo Tetsuro. 

The overachieving dumbass nearly topping every exam that he takes. Waltz around the campus with a smirk that urges all the nerves in your body to break through and act on their accord to strangulate him. It’s been only the second time that you matched a course with him but no one in university was more competent than him when it came to pop a vessel in your forehead. 

You don’t even recall how the dynamic between you two ended up like the way it is but you would rather throw yourself from a cliff, down into a lake of acid before thinking about being civil, let alone be friends with him. 

Maybe you are exaggerating, you consciously think, before the memory of him completely destroying your arguments in a debate just a few days back resurfaced in your brain. 

The smug smirk and quirked eyebrows that he flashed your way after the professor referred his points as “seemingly unbeatable” and “you could learn a thing or two from him!!” made your insides fill with bitter grudge against him once again.

But are you the one always getting the short end of the stick? Absolutely not. You are positive that your feelings are reciprocated by him whenever you raise your hands to critic his works. The narrowed hazel eyes and scorned face mirrors all your emotions whenever you bite back his words with equal wit and banter, effectively shutting him up. And that fills you with brimming satisfaction. 

However, amidst this back and forth competition of getting the better grade and constantly critiquing each other, your eyes don’t miss out the way he looks. The unmissed tension that lies between the space whenever you both get in close proximity always leaves you a little breathless, like you’re holding your breath whenever he’s this close. The way his lips looks so glossy whenever your eyes land on them. Your mind subconsciously wondering how they might ta-

Tsk

You snap the book shut and click your tongue in annoyance. Why are you even thinking about him? Pretending that your brain did not just conjure the thought seconds ago, you open your book and return back on doing your work, your mind occupied with newfound competitiveness against him. 

--

The clock hit 10 pm when you rose from the chair, your back stiffened from being in this position, like any wrong movement could crack it. You decide on a quick shower to relieve yourself from the piling stress and stiffness. 

Just as you were finishing up with your skincare, humming while a towel robe drapes your body and hair saturated with water, a series of doorbell broke through your comfortable bubble. Constantly pressing the button like some stubborn kid wanting a trick or treat. 

“If you keep on ringing like that, you best believe I'm tricking your whole lifetime” you mutter as you hurriedly prod towards the door. Opening it with a bit more force, you are met with your stumbling roommate, head hung low and the smell alcohol reek off her. Her feet barely doing any work to balance her and no sooner than that, she topples over, wrapping herself around you.

“Yui?! Oh my goodness. YUI! Are you okay?” you barely register the second person accompanying her as you try to retrieve your passed out bestfriend.

“I don’t think she’s gonna wake up anytime soon”, the deep voice rang through your ears. Your brain processing it two times to reconfirm you actually heard that before your eyes finally landed on the second company. 

His hair was spiked up as usual in his bed hair. Eyes the same batch of hazel and honey. A white dress shirt adorned his upper half, sleeves rolled till the forearms and finally your eyes zooms on his nearly cat-like face. 

“What on earth are you doing here?” your tone carrying equal measures of accusation and surprise. He scoffingly laughs, “well I certainly did not drop by for a chat and some tea time with you. If you haven’t really noticed, your bestfriend is shitfaced to the point of no return. So me, being the gentleman I am, dropped her off.”, you roll your eyes till it reaches your forehead, a snide chuckle escaping your mouth.

“Humour me. You and gentleman don’t exactly fit in one sentence.” you taunt, drawing a sigh out of him. 

“Just like you and compassion, kindness, gratitude, appreciation do not?” he sneers. Before you can retort, you feel Yui’s weight slip off of you and you hastily try to balance her before she falls face down.

But an unconscious person carries weights like a sack of boulders, making it difficult for you to handle. You look over Yui’s shoulder to see Kuroo still standing, a look of pure amusement plastered on his face as he enjoyed the mess in front of him.

“Mind helping?” you bite back at him, barely able to hold the now tumbling Yui. Kuroo swiftly steps in, draping one of Yui’s hand over his neck and balancing her. 

“There’s a nice word called “please”, but of course you wouldn’t know.” you hear him mutter breathily. 

“People lend a hand voluntarily without asking in such situations but ofcourse, kuroo the entitled tetsuro needs a laminated invite card” you dryly say, watching his eyes narrow and mock hurt creeping up on his face. 

“For someone looking pretty as you, you surely got a foul mouth” kuroo hums and you act like your heart didn’t do an unsolicited somersault at that, you clear your throat, muttering a low "anyways" and focus on guiding your bestfriend from the threshold of the door to her bedroom. 

Grin crawls on kuroo’s face knowing he did hit it where it was supposed to be. 

Once settled into the bedroom, you carefully take off her shoes, and remove little of the makeup that she got smeared all over. Her hair was matted with tangles and a little remnant of her puke dried on the side of her lips, that you quickly wipe with a wet towel. 

“What made you all drunk like you lost your lover, Yui?” you wonder out loud. Yui was in no condition to answer so the only response you received from her were snores.

Kuroo chuckles behind you, the sounds of his laughter making you turn. He was leaning against the study table. His stance radiating confidence and ease even in the silent room.

“Haven’t you got a party to attend?” you ask him. He clicks his tongue, “nah not feeling it anymore. I already got out of there with your piece of a work best friend so don’t really see a point going back.”

“Did she talk your ear off with her breakup lore?” you genuinely laugh. The sound of it reaching Kuroo’s ear, further travelling down to his heart, tugging at a string. 

“I wouldn’t say she was a sad drunk, she was hollering, singing tunelessly throughout the car, surely embarrassed the shit out of me”

“Well, if there’s anything that is left of you to get embarrassed, that is. Pretty sure she cockblocked you rightly” you say slyly.

“Says you. Weren’t you destroyed in pieces in that debate? Should have learned a thing or two from me” kuroo snorts out his sardonic laughter as he parrots your professor’s words back at you. Purposely riling you up. 

You step in closer, jabbing your pointer at his chest, “listen you. You made points stupid enough to leave anyone clueless right at that time” you hiss. Stupid counter-attack but he really grinds your gear with comments like that. 

“Points stupid enough to be “unbeatable”. Let’s accept it, sweetheart, I was better. Wouldn't kill you to do this” he grabs your pointer finger, bringing it close to his lips. For a sec, you think he's gonna kiss but he soon lets it go.

Acting like a million thoughts didn't run through your head, you quip against him.

“Uh huh? who’s leading the assignments and questionnaires then?” you proudly retort to which Kuroo shakes his head. His face inches closer, closer till remnants of his cologne hits your nose. 

“Is this why you stayed at home? Busy being a nerd? Didn't digest your defeat well?” you can feel the jeering lilt in his voice, and closely enough you could even see little evil horns sprouting at the top of his head. 

“looking for me in the crowd? Also being ahead in your work doesn’t count as being nerdy. It’s productive. I’m pretty sure I’m way ahead of you while you slack away in parties” 

“Oh yeah? What if I was?” Kuroo steps towards you, scooting a bit to the right. Now towering over your figure. You unknowingly took a step back and press against the edge of the table. You could make out how sculpted his body was underneath the white shirt, illuminated with the golden light radiating from the study table. His hands reach against your sides, knuckles brushing against the towel robe. You momentarily forget you were in nothing but a robe like that and soon heat creeps up over your cheeks and neck. He dips down till he’s face level and now you could make out the pools of honey that his eyes possess. The shirt was unbuttoned till the first two buttons and that exposed a healthy part of his collarbones and the expanse of his neck. The space between you thick with the tension and shared breath and your eyes once again land on his lips, to which you lick your own. 

Kuroo cages you between him, the scent of your shampoo now directly reaching his nose. It’s so significantly you that he audibly inhales, the sweet fragnance of creamy vanilla and coconut engulfing his senses. 

" you were what?" you glare.

"What if I was looking for you in the crowd? Had a few things to say anyways" his stare was intense, voice holding a little rasp and breathlessness that skipped a few of your breaths as well.

Kuroo wouldn't lie, he actually felt grateful for the drunken Yui back there for landing him into this situation.

The moment you had opened the door and he discovered you like that, he was itching to be closer to you. His knuckles brush against the soft fabric of your towel as he grips the table on either sides of you. His eyes landing on the way you lick your lips and he tries his best to not get ahead and close the gap between them. His mouth curves into a smirk at your faltered expression, drinking in the way you look so cute. 

How can a girl with whom he engages in a tooth and nail fight when it comes to academics can invade his thoughts like that? Randomly popping in his thoughts throughout the day and making his insides feel giddy. The front he has to put up to prevent his real emotions reaching his face makes him feel like a teenager with a stupid crush. So he acts his usual self, suppressing all the little hints of affections and thoughts he harbours for you.

But to his relief, he is sure that he is not the only one who feels the exact same way. Annoyance, competition mixed with the little hint of affection. Constantly wanting to push each other to perfection and having thoughts that blends perfectly with one another. Without the constant bickers, you both would be a team that is formidable. 

You don’t know how much time has passed while you are still like this. Your hands rest against the table right beside his and you look at him. Not wanting to break the little staring competition god knows who started. Kuroo reaches over your ear, his breath tickles you slightly as he whispers your name. Your heart thrums like it is daring to leap out. His voice holding a musky timbre and the way it sounded like dulcet almost made you forget all the times he made you want to strangle him. 

“Tetsuro…” you reply with a breathy air, not daring to break the silence that has befallen. The light snores were drifting away into the background and the only place mattered to you was this little section where you and kuroo were attached. 

“Tetsuro huh? Not sure I’d ever let you call me kuroo again, darling” his lips curve into a smile and you shamelessly ogle them. Apart from the times he manages to be the menace, he really is handsome. it is not your first time registering it but the way you are looking at him like it’s the first time is really debatable. 

“I’ll call you an insufferable cunt instead” 

“Ouch that hurts” he grumbles, still unmoving. His left hand slide over the table and it’s almost encircling you. His face scoots closer to you as if a millimeters distance will close the synapse between you. He reaches over your ear once again, finding amusement in the way it causes you to shiver ever so slightly. “You have to know this, Y/n.” kuroo huskily says. 

Anticipation bubbles inside you, as you itch to know what he’s gonna say next. 

“It’s just…I…” you wait with patience, intrigue written all over your face.

“I…already submitted up the report that you slacked on and had to finish it, leaving out on all the fun.” he brings out a file that you had freshly printed out before shower, “impressive work, darling. But as always there are some mistakes you ought to fix” 

“KUROO TETSURO GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE” you bombard him with a series of slaps across his chest while he half-heartedly dodges them, his unfiltered hyena laughter ricocheting off the room. Yui groans in the background to which you both pause before you silently launch your onslaught of attacks.

In a series of punches and slaps, you drag him towards the exit door when he grabs your hand, stopping you. Tugging your closer, this time his hands wrap against your back and once again he crouches down, whispering against your ear, an act that you discover freezes you against him.

Unfortunately enough for you, he seems to realise that too. 

“You should let Yui get shitfaced like this often so that I get the lucky opportunity to see you in a towel robe more. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” His fingertips traces your jawline before his hands reach down your head and give a gentle pat.

uhh..what.

The tapping of foot indicates he has left, his presence still enveloping you, along with the hint of his cologne wafting through the living room. You contemplate on calling in sick tomorrow.

Damn you, Yui.

I'm not sure how to feel about this. may not be my absolute favourite but this is very self indlugent (not surprising). This is very rushed and it's me writing about kuroo after such a long time so lmk how I did!!

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

tagging: @tetzoro , @kuroosexuall , @itadorey (cos I saw u not being able to see the posts on dash :(( ), @sookisaurus @quirrrky @sir-kuroo (I looked at the tags and went :0 I deadass thought I had tagged you, my most longest kuroo lover moot in this app how could I not include you im so sorry boo)

[kairismess]

i'll try my best for you. – college!bokuto x gn!honors student!reader

it was never a surprise that kotaro bokuto isn't the best student out there. he had scored pretty low on... most, if not all, the exams, and was on the brink of failing this semester. you didn't know what that problem was like, it felt like a completely different universe for you to receive anything that bad–you couldn't let yourself fall behind, it wasn't in your nature. your professors noticed your drive and enthusiasm for studying, and out of pity and desperation, they offered you extra credit to teach the "lost cause" that was this eccentric fellow, who... was rubbing an open book on his head. "...what are you doing?" "shh... i'm soaking up the knowledge. kuroo told me this is how he studies, and he gets such high grades!" you sighed as you pulled up a chair and sat next to him. you lifted the book off his head and noticed his pretty, coffee-colored eyes with dark yellow, honey undertones to them. he smiled up at you, practically beaming; hints of pink on his cheeks glowed, making you a little warm in the face, yourself. overtime, you both had grown accustomed to each other–even though you both had your misunderstandings and spats at times–bokuto sincerely meant well and wanted to do better at school. not for himself, but rather, for the one who's put all this effort to teach him and help him get better: you.

even on days off, you'd sometimes see bokuto studying at the library, which unsettled you a bit because the sight was... a bit uncanny, a bit worrisome. but when you'd hear bokuto scream out his signature, "hey, hey, hey!" in the once quiet and peaceful room–beibg subsequently shushed by the librarian who gave him a nasty look–bokuto shied back behind his books and smiled to himself all giddy. "hey, hey, hey!" he whispered to himself, finally understanding the topic you nearly lost all patience teaching him. after a week of catching bokuto studying without him knowing, it seemed like he was already a little advanced, and very well-read on the topics you were tutoring him about.

he chuckled when you praised him, pushing back the fake glasses he bought to look smarter on his face, smirking at you. "that's because i have such a wonderful tutor..." he buttered you up, smiling widely. "or, maybe because... you spent more time and effort on your studies, even without me?" you asked him with a knowing grin, making bokuto sweat a bit, thinking you might've found out already his secret. he cleared his throat and looked away from you, whistling and denying your allegations. "why do your eyes have slight bags underneath them?" "i-i... got into using makeup recently!" "makeup...?" "y-yeah! akaashi does... eyeliner for me, it's really... really pretty on me, no?!" he asks you with a trembling smile that faked confidence.

you could clearly see through him, but you didn't mind letting him indulge in him making you feel like the best tutor the world had to offer him, and in a sense, you were. it wasn't because of how well you taught him or how high his marks were after teaching him, it was because... he now does his best, even when it seems impossible to do, because he knows you'd be proud of him if he did better than before, even by just the tiniest bit. nothing would make him any happier than you feeling proud of him, of yourself, for teaching him; because when he saw you smile at his little coverup... he noticed a brightness in them that he only witnessed just now. you were proud of him, even if you didn't say it–and he... felt over the moon when you congratulated him for his passing scores, he screamed again in excitement and joy in the library, making the librarian shush him again–their eyes shooting daggers at him.

"i promise you," he whispered as he leaned closer to your ear, grinning from ear-to-ear, a gleeful mess, "i'll do my very best, always. these exams won't be that scary this time around... and that's because i'll try my best, better than the best... i'll try my best for you." he finished with a blush and a smile on his face, unable to contain his excitement. you were going to correct him on his grammar with that 'better' and 'best' declaration, but you decided to let bokuto express just how dedicated he is to making you proud of him–to give your efforts meaning. "well... good luck, bokuto." you told him with a smile, making bokuto freeze up and his heart momentarily skipping a beat, and suddenly thrumming in his chest that he felt it could leap out of his chest any minute now. "y-you bet! bring it on, exams! i don't fear you!" he screamed in the library, with you trying to quiet him down as the librarian was about to throw a book at him to sit him down and silence him. oh, this boy... he had a way of making you feel like the smartest person in the world. to him, of course you were–but to know he was doing his best for you... it made your heart patter a bit. it was a good feeling, though a little strange; maybe this feeling would be... a little more than just that, only time will tell.

[chaxiu]

growing sideways

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem! reader

summary: kuroo tetsurou is all grown up. you think you might have to learn to let him go. or: an exploration of love, and loving things.

note: sorry that it's been so long!! college has been so silly funny goofy (derogatory) but i'm on break now and pretending that i dno't have to go back in a week.

sort of spoilers for occupations (kuroo, kenma, yaku) post-timeskip! (but also doesn’t really follow canonical futures… sort of a mess, to be honest.) my attempt at reconciling what i’d hoped for him and what he becomes.  title taken from a noah kahan song of the same name that has next to nothing to do with the actual fic.

cw: mention of throwing up (doesn’t actually happen, though)

___

When Kuroo Tetsurou gets scouted to a professional team in Russia, you’re the last person he tells. Technically, he doesn’t tell you at all – it’s Kenma who does, blinking up at you from behind a curtain of his hair.

“I thought he’d told you already,” he says, voice as apologetic as you’ve ever heard it, which is to say apathetic, as always, but with a dash of sympathy mixed in.

“No,” you say, because there’s nothing else left you can say. “He didn’t.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, shifting his focus back to his game. You take the moment he offers you to exhale, quietly. To resituate yourself around this new hurt in your chest.

“Does everyone else know?” you ask. Kenma lifts one of his shoulders up, a half-shrug.

“Maybe not his mom,” he offers. This is poor consolation, and both of you know it – Kuroo hasn’t talked to his mother beyond stilted platitudes in years, not since she uprooted her life and his sister and half his chest and taken it with her, leaving a husband, a son, and a house with too many rooms.

“So he’s gonna take it, then,” you say. Kuroo is a lot of things – mercurial, bright, a pain in the ass when he puts his mind to it – but everyone knows that first and foremost, he’s a volleyball player. You’d realized it for yourself, back in your first year of university, when one of your friends had dragged you to a match and you’d spotted him, arms outstretched, fingers splayed and braced as if he thought he could hold a sun in his hands. When he’d landed, you’d caught sight of his grin, almost too large for his face.

Ah, you’d thought. So this is what it means to love something.

The next morning, at your eight-thirty introductory economics lecture, you’d shuffled in and put your head down on the desk, drifting closer and closer to sleep every second. 

Then the person behind you had poked you, hard, and you’d let out a half-scream, jolting up in your seat in a way that made every single person in your lecture hall, including your professor, look at you.

The person behind you had started laughing – an ugly laugh, cackling like a hyena, the kind of laugh that made you want to join in, despite your burning embarrassment. You’d swiveled around to face him as the professor resumed his lecturing.

“What is wrong with you,” you’d hissed. It was the boy from yesterday– the middle blocker with the awful hair.

He’d raised his hands up in surrender, although there was still a crooked grin on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” he’d said. “Just was wondering if you had a pencil.”

“You know,” you’d said, fishing one from your bag. “There are easier ways to ask people for a pencil than giving them heart attacks.”

You’d passed the pencil to him, and he’d given you a jaunty little salute with it, one that made your lips curl up despite yourself. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he’d said, and you’d turned back around again, and that was that.

Except the next lecture, you’d arrived at your usual seat to find a disposable cup of coffee there, likely from the little cafe downstairs. You’d turned to the boy behind you, raising your eyebrows.

“As a thank you,” he’d shrugged, leaning back in his chair in a way you’d suspected was meant to be cool and casual. “And also so that you don’t keep falling asleep in lecture.”

“How do you know I’ve been falling asleep in lecture,” you’d said, a little grumpily, pulling the cup towards you and taking a sip nonetheless. It wasn’t your usual order, but it was drinkable, and if you were being honest, you’d need all the caffeine you could get.

He’d watched you take a sip of the drink, a pleased smile playing on his face. “I sit right behind you. I’ve seen you take a nap at your desk every single week.” 

“I’ll have you know that that’s just the posture I learn best in,” you’d sniffed.

“What, drooling?”

“I do not drool,” you’d said, haughty. “And even if I did, how would you even know? You’re such a stalker.”

“Harsh,” he’d whistled, although the smile didn’t leave his face. “I’m just observant.”

You’d rolled your eyes at him, swiveling around to face the front of the room as the professor began his lecture. And if you’d managed – for the first time this entire semester – to make it all the way through without falling asleep, well, that was nobody’s business but your own.

The next week, another cup was waiting for you. 

“You know,” you’d said, “I think you’ve repaid your debt from the pencil in full.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the pencil,” he’d replied. “I didn’t get the right order for you last week, did I? I wanted to try again this time.”

You’d blinked at him. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kuroo,” he’d said. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Well, Kuroo Tetsurou,” you’d said, “did you ever think about just asking me for my order?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he’d asked.

The drinks kept coming, every week, without fail, ranging from plain to ridiculously extravagant. He still hadn’t gotten your order, although at some point during the semester, he’d migrated from sitting behind you to sitting right next to you, passing you stupid notes and doodling all over your notebooks.

The last lecture’s drink was wrong, again, although you kept drinking it anyways. “You should come hang out with me and my friends sometime,” he’d said, sudden, and you’d nearly choked.

“What brought this on?”

“I dunno,” he’d said, uncharacteristically shy, looking away from you. “You know when you meet some people and it’s just like, they’re meant to be in my life, so you have to try really hard to not let them go?”

“So making a girl scream during lecture is your idea of an ideal introduction,” you’d said, and he’d rolled his eyes, leaning over to lightly push at your shoulder.

“You know what I mean.”

“I saw one of your volleyball matches,” you’d told him. Suddenly you’d wanted him to know. “At the beginning of the semester. Before we’d met.”

He seemed to understand what you were trying to say.  “What’d you think?” 

“You must really love it,” you’d said. “Playing volleyball.”

“I do.”

“Well, then, Kuroo-kun. I’ll come meet your friends, under one condition.” He’d raised his eyebrows at you, expectantly.

“I get to tell you my coffee order,” you’d said. “Some of these drinks are becoming downright disgusting.”

“You drink them anyway,” he’d replied. “But I suppose that’s a fair trade.”

You’d grinned at him, and he’d grinned back, and it’d all gone from there. 

You’ve known since you started talking to him that Kuroo is a natural at getting people to orbit around him. He draws people near – crooked grin, warm eyes, quick wit – and then holds them there, at arm’s length, never quite letting them get any closer. You’d thought, perhaps, that you could be an exception to this. That he’d seen something in you that was enough for him to want to let you in. To pull you close. The thing is this: in your heart of hearts you are a romantic, and to you Kuroo has always been a little like the sun, like tilting your face towards the golden wash of afternoon and remembering, soft and gentle like falling into something, So this is what it is to love.

“I don’t know,” Kenma says, and you look at him looking at his game. He is, out of anyone, the most likely to understand how you feel: the air knocked out of you, leaving you gasping and breathless . But he has the reassurance of more than a decade of friendship behind him, built on neighboring houses and the squeak of shoes on a gymnasium floor. Some days you feel like what you have with Kuroo is fragile and insubstantial, playing-card houses on a precarious surface. Like if he left he’d take it all with him.

“Of course he’s going to take it,” you say past the lump in your throat. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, but the little sound effects from his game pause. He blinks up at you through his bangs.

“We should throw him a party,” you say. “Or something. To celebrate.”

“If you think that’s a good idea,” he says, noncommittal. 

There is an ache in your chest and you think that once you leave Kenma’s apartment you won’t be able to stop yourself from crying. “Of course it’s a good idea. You know how much Kuroo loves having everyone he loves in one place.”

“That’s exactly the thing,” Kenma murmurs, but you don’t hear him, already pulling out your phone to make a list.

“Invites, decorations, food… Oh! Kenma, do you think Kuroo would like it if we made him saba? Or went out to a restaurant that specializes?”

“Probably,” he says. The game resumes. “He’s always going on about doca-something acid.”

“Docosahexaenoic acid,” you correct absently, scrolling through a list of nearby restaurants. Kuroo’s talked about it enough – and despite your better judgment, you’ve listened to his rants enough times – for you to remember the name in full. 

You miss the look that Kenma gives you, exasperatedly fond.

It turns out that Kuroo knows a lot of people. Even more than you’d thought. There are the guys that he plays with on the volleyball team, of course, but then there’s also his other business major friends and the other undergraduates who work in the same lab that he does in his free time (because of course he’d be the type of person to do that.) Then there’s the neighbors he’d had freshman year and still miraculously keeps in touch with, and the ones from sophomore year. Then Kenma casually mentions that Kuroo still frequently talks to everyone from his volleyball team his third year of high school, and you have to beg him to let you use his phone and ensure that everyone from there will be able to attend.

Then there’s the issue of getting enough food: you know from prior experience that volleyball players can eat, and there’s a part of you that worries that the budget you’ve scraped together from whatever your friends managed to donate won’t be enough for one of them, let alone the stampede you’re about to invite into your apartment. And besides, there’s decorations to think about, and maybe a present for Kuroo, and maybe it would be cute if you could get one of those places that rents out cats to send over a couple – do those places actually exist or was the whole thing just a stress-induced hallucination? Either way, the stress of budgeting is enough to make you understand why Kuroo had succumbed to his base capitalistic tendencies and become a business major. You’ll never be able to make fun of him for it again.

Kenma solves this problem readily enough, extending a credit card towards you with barely any hesitation when you mention it in passing.

“Stop stressing out,” he mutters. “It’ll be okay. Kuro’s not the kind who’d care about things like that.”

You blink at him. He determinedly avoids your eyes. “Kenma,” you say. “You know what I have to do, don’t you.”

He sighs, setting down his game. “If you must.”

You launch yourself at him in a bone-crushing hug, and although you hear him click his tongue at you, you can also feel the way his hands come up to rest on your back, soft and steady. 

“He asked me if I’d seen you around recently,” Kenma mentions when you separate.

“What did you say?”

“Said you seemed busy. He said he hadn’t seen you and was worried he’d done something.”

There isn’t much to say back to that. You busy yourself by picking at one of the threads in your shirtsleeves.

Kenma says your name. 

“I know,” you say. “I know. I just – I don’t know.”

Kuroo has many smiles, you know. There’s the one when he’s trying to get a rise out of someone, lazy and lean. There’s the one when he sees a cute animal or a small child or the old lady you always run into the market, the one that reminds him of his obaa-chan. There’s the one he gets when he sees you, sometimes, and doesn’t realize that you’re seeing him back, small and fond in a way that makes you a little afraid, sometimes. At the enormity of it. At how fragile it seems, some days. At what it could become, if given the chance.

And there’s the one he has when he’s playing volleyball, the one that makes his eyes go all squinty; the one that’s a little too large, just on this side of feral, because he’s so happy that he doesn’t remember to think about things like presentability and not scaring the people around him, both on his side and the other side of the net. The one he has when he hits a kill block, or a no-touch ace. 

You don’t think you could stand to take that from him.

“I’ve just been busy. With the party planning, and all,” you finish, meekly. You know he knows you’re lying. Still, Kenma doesn’t push.

“If you say so,” he hums, turning back to his computer. “It seemed like he missed you, though.”

You hate yourself for the small spark of want that blooms in your chest. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, in another life, could probably be yours. You’ve seen the way his ears turn red sometimes when you press a little too close, thighs close enough to be touching at one of the tables of your favorite izakaya. You know he knows your favorites the same way that he knows his own, know that in his head there’s a file of nothing but his knowledge about you, filled to bursting. You know that there are days, hours, moments where his touch lingers on your wrist, your cheek, the back of your arm – never long enough to presume, just long enough for you to notice.

In this life, you’ve seen the way he plays volleyball clearly enough to know that he loves it. That in terms of paths, this is probably the most natural one for him, as easy as breathing. That the world is so big and he deserves to go out and see it, that he’s growing up and some days you feel in your bones that he’s leaving you behind, in the same way that you’d left behind the yellow rubber rainboots you’d adored as a child, outgrown and overworn.

You busy yourself with party planning, so that at least everyone except Kuroo knows that you have a valid reason for ignoring him. Once the budgeting crisis is averted, things go surprisingly smoothly: money really does make the world go round, you think, in a rare moment of reflection between arguing with the caterer and double-checking that you have enough chairs in your apartment.

It’s good, to keep busy. Drowns out your heartbeat in your ears. He’s leaving, he’s leaving, he’s leaving. He’s leaving and you’re not gonna even ask him to stay.

The day of the party is bright and clear, because the universe loves Kuroo in the same way that you do. Bokuto – one of Kuroo’s teammates, and one of your favorites out of all of Kuroo’s teammates (although you’ve long maintained that it would be difficult for Bokuto not to be anyone’s favorite) – is tasked with distracting Kuroo for the day, then leading him to your apartment. This is a good plan because Bokuto is, himself, easily distractible, and Kuroo is, more often than not, perfectly willing to go along with Bokuto’s distractions. However, this is also a bad plan because Bokuto is, out of everyone you’ve invited, perhaps the second-most likely person to spoil the plans for the party. (The first being Lev Haiba, naturally.) To counterbalance that, you’ve asked Akaashi Keiji, one of your juniors, to go along – he has a natural talent for keeping Bokuto in check, more so than anyone you’ve ever met. But you’d feel bad, leaving Akaashi alone to deal with the two of them like that, so to ensure your plan had the greatest chance of success possible, you convince (read: bribed) Kenma to go along with the three of them. Odds are good that he won’t do much to curb Kuroo and Bokuto, but you’re willing to hope that his presence will keep Kuroo from doing something completely insane.

Back in your apartment, you’re adding the last finishing touches to the streamers hanging in the doorway. Yaku, next to you, squints at the streamers. “They’re a little crooked,” he says.

You bite back your immediate response, which is to tell him that if you had a stepladder tall enough that he could reach you’d gladly go get it for him so he could fix them himself. Instead, you ask, “How is it, over there, Yakkun?”

“In Russia?” he asks, and you nod. He pauses, considering. “It was rough, at first.”

“But you got through it,” you say, voice coming out a little more desperately than you’d like. “You like it there now.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It won’t ever be Japan, but I think I can make it home. And Kuroo’s always been able to land on his feet, wherever it goes. I don’t think you need to worry about him, even if he does decide to take the offer.”

“Of course he’s going to take the offer,” you say. “Why wouldn’t he –”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You take it out to read a text from Akaashi. Heading back, it says. Be there in three.

Hurriedly, you jam your phone back into your pocket. “Okay, everyone, places!” you call, watching with a critical eye as everyone tucks themselves away.

“Lev, that’s not gonna work. Hiding behind the lamp’s not gonna do much.”

“Idiot,” you hear someone – Yaku? – mutter, and you laugh a little despite yourself. Your phone buzzes again. In the elevator, you read, and hastily you dive underneath a table with one of Kuroo’s kouhai from high school – Fukunaga, you think – to hide yourself, just as you hear the sound of a key in a lock. 

“I just don’t understand why she’d ask you to take care of her plants,” Kuroo says as he steps through the door, sounding a little bemused. “I mean, I love you, bro, but I still haven’t forgotten what happened that one time –”

Three, two, one, you mouth silently, holding your fingers out where everyone can see them, then –

“Surprise!” you call out, stepping out of your hiding place. The others all scramble to follow, adding their own voices to the chorus.

It is, to your delight, one of the few times you’ve seen Kuroo properly surprised, enough that he actually staggers back a step, eyes wide. 

“What – how – when – what is this for?” he asks, directing his question to you, standing right in front of him.

“To say congratulations, Kuroo,” you reply. Suddenly your throat is a little dry. “On getting the offer.”

This time his eyes widen with realization – and maybe a little flash of guilt. He covers it quickly, though, and you’re left a little uncertain, like stepping on uneven ground. 

“So you didn’t actually ask Bokuto to take care of your plants,” he says instead, and you laugh. The sound is a little brittle in your ears.

“Of course not,” you say. “I haven’t forgotten that one time when he –”

“Did I mention we have cake?” Bokuto swoops in. “I picked out the flavor myself and everything. You gotta come see it. The lady at the store was so nice, though I don’t think she understand exactly what I was asking her to put on it at first –”

With a wry eye roll to you, Kuroo lets himself be dragged away. The rest of the partygoers take it as their sign to start mingling, and you let yourself fade into the chatter, becoming nothing more than background noise. It fits uncomfortably, now, where before it might have been a little more natural. Kuroo has always been good at creating space intentionally, whether it be for you or anyone else: a sly smirk for your eyes only, a joke directed towards you and you alone. It’s one of the reasons why you think everyone feels like they can fall into his orbit more effortlessly. 

Kenma appears by your side, unobtrusive as usual. “You should talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“Whatever you want.”

There is a want in your throat and it chokes you. I want you to stay. I know you should go. I’m terrified that I’ll never see you again, either way – if I made you stay and you resented it, if I let you leave and you loved it. 

“I’m worried that he’s getting bored here,” you say instead. “Like it’s not challenging him enough. Like he wants more.”

There are things that you’re willing to admit you can be slightly paranoid about: like putting too much of your heart on the table, like finding someone who loves all of you but the worst parts. Like loving someone and watching them start to resent you, like wanting to learn how to love in the right way but really only learning how to suffocate. And you know it’s possible that in this could be a combination of all those things, that rationally Kuroo knows better than anyone what’s his to keep and what’s his to give away. But you’ve known him for so long now, and there’s a part of you that likes to think you know him better than almost anyone in the world. It’s that part of you that insists you can see Kuroo Tetsurou getting tired, a little bit. He walks off the court with his head tilted back, eyes closed against the glaring lights on the gymnasium, far above. When he looms over the net, you think of it as less a state of being and more of a conscious action: a weary sigh. Another day at work. 

Kuroo Tetsurou, you think, is learning to want new things. To love new things. And that’s okay – that’s more than okay. There’s just a selfish part of you that wishes you could be there to see him through it. 

Kenma hasn’t said anything, staring at you patiently. You think you might throw up.

“I have to go,” you say, limp, and spin on your heel to slip out the back door. Somewhere behind you, Bokuto’s cheers rise above the din, followed by Kuroo’s cackling laugh. It makes your chest ache a little, but at the very least it provides you with some cover.

Your little apartment building stands at an intersection between two streets. Turn right and you’ll get to the park with the stray cats, the ones who’ve started coming around more frequently now that Kuroo has started showing up (now that Kuroo has started bringing them treats, although he denies it every time you bring it up.) Turn left and walk far enough and there’s a little embankment that slopes down to a river. Sometimes in the mornings joggers will pass through the area, but in the dead of the night like it is now the grassy slope is deserted. You sink down onto it, ignoring the way the cold sinks into your skin.

Part of you wants to cry. Most of you is glad you aren’t: can’t, maybe, or won’t. 

You tell yourself the grand lesson in this is that you have to be better at letting go. That there is a lot that your hands could hold – a lot that your hands could want to hold, given the time. Given the opportunity – but not all of it is meant to be held by you. That there is a whole world out there and tonight it feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

Perhaps the grand lesson is just this: that loss exists. That wanting perseveres.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind you. You know without turning who it is, fingers tightening in the grass.

“Hey,” you say back.

“Can I sit?”

You wave a hand listlessly at the space beside you. “There’s space available.”

He settles in next to you, close enough that your thighs could brush if you were a little more careless, if you hadn’t been holding yourself strung tight and stiff.

“Why aren’t you in there?” you ask finally, when it becomes clear that he has no intention of saying anything, that he’s planning on waiting until you start first. “It’s your party.”

“Why aren’t you in there?” he counters. “You planned it.”

“It was a little loud,” you offer. “Was getting a little sleepy.”

“You weren’t there anymore,” he says. “Kenma said he saw you heading out.”

The words stick in the hollow of your throat, between your collarbones. You can feel them lodged there. “Kuroo,” you say, careful to not let your voice shake, “you can’t say things like that.”

There’s a hand on your knee, long fingers and broad palms spreading over your skin easily. His hand is warm. You direct your gaze down to it. His hand is big enough that it nearly covers your knee.

“Why not?”

“It’s not fair,” you say. “I know you’re not that stupid, Kuroo. You can’t go saying things like that when you’re about to leave.”

He says your name, sharp and soft.

“And of course I’m happy you’re going. I know you’re not happy – not as happy here as you could be. I know it’s an incredible opportunity. I know you deserve it, and you deserve every incredible thing that comes your way. Or at least – I want to be happy for you, Kuroo. I want to be able to give you that much, at least.”

He says your name again. It sounds fond enough that you gain the courage to look up at him. He’s looking right at you. The hand on your knee reaches for your jaw, instead, cradling it tenderly.

“I think I’m gonna stay,” he says. “And I’m sorry for not telling you about the offer earlier. I just – I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. I wasn’t even sure if I was, at first. But then I kept coming back to it – the fact that I didn’t want you to think I was leaving. Not at all, not even a possibility. It made me realize that – well. Russia would be incredible. But I think – I know – I would rather stay.”

The words take a moment to sort themselves out in your brain. Then:

“Kuroo, you can’t,” you choke out. “This is your dream.”

“It was,” he says. “For the longest time, it was. And I thought it was something I had to keep loving. Something that I had to pursue. Like I would be doing a disservice to the me I was when I was little, if I decided I didn’t want to follow the path I’ve wanted since I first started playing volleyball.”

You say nothing. There is a sun rising in your throat. You are afraid to let it go.

“But you know,” he says, thoughtful, “I think there is a difference between loving something and being in love with something.”

“Yeah?” you say. He reaches for your hand, flipping it over from where it rests in the grass so that your palm is facing upward. Slots his fingers through the gaps between your own.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing once, twice, three times. “Like – I love volleyball, you know.”

“I know,” you say, because you do.

“But I’m in love with it here. With Japan. With the connections I’ve made, with the people who keep me here.”

“I’m glad,” you say, because you are, selfishly so.

“And,” he says, hesitant in a way that you’ve only ever seen once before, back when he was just the boy with the awful laugh and the ugly hair and who kept getting you coffee and getting it wrong, “I’m in love with you.”

And the sun, blooming over the horizon.

[bowandcurtsey]

When the kids ask for a second child (haikyuu) 

So I did this with the BC boys and I thought of some scenarios for the Haikyuu boys too ♡ඩ⌔ඩ♡

Kuroo | Bokuto | Atsumu | Tsukishima | Oikawa x f! reader

d/n : daughter's name s/n : son's name h/n : her name

TW: pregnancy, implications of nsfw but not mentioned, unchecked.

Black Clover Version

Kuroo Tetsuro

"Daa daa!!" d/n ran towards her dad the first thing he stepped into the house. Her eyes were red and there were still tears left in her eyes.

"hey there little one," your husband picked your 3 year old up, "are you crying because you missed your daddy soooo much?"

"you wish," you laughed at your husband, giving him a peck on his lips as he frowned.

"so you don't miss daddy anymore? My princess is all grown up now, huh?" he feigned a hurt expression to your daughter.

"I do.." d/n gave a little pout exactly like her father's, "but daddy, Aunty h/n and Uncle Bokuto are having another baby!!"

"oya?" Kuroo looked at you in confusion, "why is this a news to cry about?"

"It's not fair!" d/n wailed, "I want another baby too!"

Kuroo laughed as he tossed his daughter in the air, giving a little kiss to her forehead.

"I'm on it," he winked at his mini him, "give daddy about 4 weeks, then you can share with Uncle Bo that you're gonna have another sibling too~"

"Tetsu!!" you pinched his sides, but something tells you that he was indeed serious.

Bokuto Koutaro

"Mummy! You're buttercup, I'm Blossom and d/n is Bubbles!" Your twin daughter came running to you while you were making an afternoon snack for the family.

"Hey! how about daddy!" your husband whined.

"You're professor!" d/n, twin number 2 exclaimed.

"But that makes mummy my daughter!" you husband finally got the logic right, "That's wrong! Mummy's my wife!"

You always found it funny how your husband liked to bicker with his 4 year old twin daughters about small matters like this.

"Okay!" twin number 1 exclaimed, "Mummy, we need another sister!"

"YA!!" twin 2 shouted from the living room.

"HEY HEY HEY!!" your husband stood up, skipping towards you with sparkles in his eyes.

He picked up the carrot you were slicing and dipped it into the hummus, "I think that's a great idea, mummy."

The carrot and hummus were placed right at your lips, "I think we can have the powerpuff boys next~"

"BO!"

Miya Atsumu

"alright, let's eat!" Osamu placed the pot of curry down on the dining table. You, Atsumu and your 3 year old son were visiting Osamu and h/n at their new home. Of course Osamu the chef had to cook personally for his favourite little nephew, s/n.

s/n always loved eating whatever his uncle made. He would polish his plate clean and that always made Osamu very proud.

"So~" h/n started to talk as everyone began eating, "we have news to tell you guys~"

"h/n is pregnant!" Osamu could barely contain himself.

Atsumu and you cheered loudly. "s/n! Uncle samu gonna have a baby! you'll have a play mate!" Atsumu told his son.

s/n stared at everyone with a blank look, feeling confused at what was going on. He didn't really understood the words 'pregnant', or 'playmate' quite yet."

As the four of you settled down, s/n suddenly broke the silence. "daaadaa! I want baby too!"

Everyone broke into laughter again as Osamu scruffled his nephew's hair.

Atsumu propped his head on his elbows as he looked at you with a grin on his face, "we'll have to see what mama says about that, little monkey~"

"Okay, let's just focus on dinner, shall we!" your face was flushed red.

Tsukishima Kei

"daddy~" your little princess tugged onto her dad's fingers. It was always when she wanted something from her dad, she'd do that.

"What is it, d/n?" The middle blocker picked his daughter up.

"Stella said that she's gonna have another sister in awhile so she won't have time to play with me next time..." she pouted

"oh, Stella from school?"

"Uh huh.." she frowned, "daddy?"

"Mhmm?"

"Can I have another sister too?"

Tsukishima blinked twice at what his daughter just said. The heat creeping up to his face as his ear tips reddened.

He cleared his throat, "What if it's a brother?"

"no, I don't want a brother!" d/n crossed her arm.

"But we can't really decide on whether it's a boy or a girl, princess.." Tsukishima gave his daughter a little sheepish smile.

"okay.. I just want another baby so they can play with stella's baby and I can play with Stella again!"

Tsuki raised a brow at his daughter. She was indeed smart but in kinda the wrong way. He shook his head, deciding not to further explain the situation.

"I'll talk to mommy tonight, okay? So you'll have to head to bed earlier so mommy and I have time to discuss about this."

Oikawa Tooru

"daadaa maamaa!!" your four year old was excited to see both of you pick her up today.

Your husband carried her in one arm and held your hand on the other. Even as he grew older, your husband's charisma never faded, there were still many moms stealing glances at his handsome features. But now as he held your daughter and you, all you felt was pride.

"Teacher Daisy is having a baby in her belly!!" she excitedly exclaimed.

You both looked at the young teacher, and congratulated her, wishing her all the best and to take good care of yourself.

"Cupcake, you have to be careful around Teacher Daisy, alright, do not knock into her or cause her to fall, her little baby in her belly might get hurt." You reminded d/n.

"Okay mama," she nodded her head

"When you were in your mommy's belly, daddy was very careful too~" your husband smiled at the memory, "daddy watched as you grew bigger in mommy's belly~"

"daadaa, I want to take care of mama and the baby in her belly too!"

"mama has no baby in my belly right now, cupcake." you giggled.

"That can be changed," Oikawa winked at you.

"Tooru!" you gave him the look.

d/n clapped her hands, "yes yes!! baby!!"

"Honey, we have to give our little cupcake what she wants~" Oikawa wriggled his brows at you.

[narizaki]

charm   004.   coffee

― this chapter has written content

next   ―   masterlist   ―   prev

you exit your room, being greeted by the sight of tobio seated on your couch. he’s conversing with hitoka, talking about their recent endeavors and such. she’s happily munching on a cookie from the box he bought.

“good morning,” you say, nodding at tobio and hitoka. hitoka only smiles at you, quickly excusing herself and leaving for the kitchen. there’s an awkward pause once she leaves, and you’re unsure what to do. you're left standing in the doorway of the living room, eyes darting everywhere but to the man in your apartment.

tobio abruptly stands up and takes long strides towards you. your eyebrows furrow, until he pushes the cup of coffee towards you. oh, you think, i forgot about that.

“as thanks for tutoring me,” he begins, looking off to the side once handing off the cup. “i wasn’t sure what you wanted, so i got something basic..."

you shake your head in response, reassuring him that it’s fine. you would’ve bought coffee anyway or made a cup yourself, and you tell him that much. “it’s a simple iced coffee, and those are hard to mess up,” you chide. “you didn't need to come all the way over here, though."

"i know," tobio hums, "but i wanted to."

you almost choke on your drink. the sputtering sound makes tobio look in your direction, concern evident on his face. you compose yourself quickly. "...anyway, we should get going."

the two of you take off, making light conversation as you head towards the university library. it’s a short walk from your apartment, which you’re grateful for as you enter the building. thankfully it’s not crowded, so tobio can find a table where you can work in peace. you pull out a pencil and a calculator from your bag, and tobio situates his belongings; that being his homework, laptop, pencils, and calculator. 

“okay, what exactly do you need help with?” you questioned, leaning over to see his work.

“...pretty much everything,” tobio mumbles, causing you to laugh a bit. “i missed a class for a game, and i guess the professor introduced something new.” you hum in understanding, sliding the paper over to your side of the table.

“so, for this, you’re gonna wanna…”

―   notes

∘   tobio spent like 10 minutes stressing and holding up the line at the coffee shop he went to because he didn't know what to get. the cashier just asked if he was buying something for himself or for someone else, which he mumbled out "yeah i'm getting this for someone..." and they sighed and chose for him.

∘   he does NOT drink coffee at all; he doesn't frequent coffee shops and the like, which is why he was so worried.

∘   kenma does not go outside. usually he & kuroo just stay inside for dates, and all his roommates are as introverted as he is, so they don't go out unless absolutely necessary.

 ―   taglist

 @diorzs @cloveletter @anurst @romyoia @muyyie 

@froyaoya @rory-cakes @integers @bunninio @ilovekimchi123

@dksfl920 @oneiratxxia10 @girlkissersco @shironagi

[toomanygoldfish]

Kuroo cat person!

You were writing a College language paper and it was kicking your butt. You had missed class scheduling period, so you were stuck with some of the most difficult professors on campus.  

Specifically this one professor had decided that you must be plagiarizing, but couldn’t find any evidence. All and all, the work he was having you do dragged late into the night. 

And on one particular night, you had a buddy. He was a small calico who had no thoughts in his head. You and Kuroo had picked him up off the streets. For some reason the cat had decided that you were the favorite person. 

“Kuroo! Come get your cat! Hese being an asshole!” You lightly try to tap the cat away from your laptop. When that doesn’t work, you blow in his face.

You hear footsteps coming down the stairs as the cat goes back to asking for attention. You turn around to face your boyfriend. “Take him, I need to get a paper done.” 

You were tired and really wanted to get this paper finished so you could sleep. Kuroo’s arms snake past you as he reaches for the cat. 

He picks the cat up gently and turns towards you. His face is twisted into a sarcastic pout. “i'm insulted that you think my cat could be anything less than perfect!” 

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face; “He is a perfect little bean, he is just sitting on my laptop and I need to get work done”

Kuroo smiles and looks at his cat. “Its his favorite napping place!”

You huff out a laugh “Your impossible”

You open your laptop and begin to write out your essay. Your boyfriend says in the room going to sit on a nearby chair. 

After about an half an hour of quiet, you hear his voice from your left. “…Do you want to hear a potassium joke?”

You swivel you chair to face him, he got this goofy little heron on his face. “Sure?”

He looks up at you and stares you straight in the eyes and says “K.”

You sit in silence for a second, then your eyes widen finally getting the joke. A cough escapes you throat as you try not to laugh.  “W-what?”

“You got it, i know you did” he looks smug.

You pause for a second to regain your composure before looking into his eyes and replying “I dont remember that element, but its on the tip of my tungsten.”

His eyes brighten with joy, “[Name], i love you so much” you smile back at him about to respond before-

Meow!

You glance down at the cat, who is now pawing at your boyfriend chest, trying to get attention. “It seems that your cat loves you too.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrow as he realizes that you have not once referred to the cat by his name, “Say the cat's name babe, you know it.”

He places the cat in your lap. You look at the cat and heave a sigh. “…hello… Erwin” the cat looks up at you curiously before reaching up…

… and batting you right in the face. 

You jump up, startling the Erwin as Kuroo laughs. “OW” Kuroo keeps laughing for a solid minute before a single sentence makes its way out of his mouth; “I guess he really is just an … Arsole”